Distractions
by FayrieFox
Summary: Hisoka is trying to get work done. Someone has other ideas. -Oneshot-


Hisoka was standing at the kitchen counter, leaning on it, still in his work clothes with a pile of paperwork in front of him. He had to get this paperwork done quickly, before Tsuzuki got home from GenSouKai and made them watch that movie he'd been trying to get them to watch for the last week. He hadn't thought he'd have a problem, most of it had gotten finished at the office and he was nearly done with the stack that had been brought home.

Another twenty minutes, tops.

Unfortunately he hadn't taken the hands that came out of nowhere and began accosting his butt into consideration. So he tried to ignore them. While they cupped his rear, traced it, and traced patterns on it randomly. He counted the ignoring a success since he hadn't made any of his "Damn you, you know my butt is sensitive now stop it!" noises that always faded into "That felt good, do that again" when the hands began tracing patterns. Really he had succeeded, would have continued to if the hands hadn't decided to play dirty.

They traced along his hips to the front. Fingers dislodging his shirt from his jeans, then undoing and tugging off his belt so that his pants slid down a short way and stopped. ('Cause, dammit, they didn't make jeans to fit boys who were still growing, meaning he'd be stuck with either too big or too small jeans, save for that one especially rare pair that actually fit right, for the rest of whenever. He was not wearing dresses, no matter what Saya and Yuma said.) Fingers continued rubbing along his hips while thumbs caressed his flat stomach. And Hisoka couldn't hold back the noises anymore, those hands were crossing the line; he gave a soft moan and dropped the pen he'd been using.

The other person stepped up closer to him, barely an inch of distance between them, and laughed. Hands ran up his chest, pulling his shirt up and off once he'd gotten his arms up. Those hands continued to pick on him, they knew all his sensitive spots, how to run the fingernails and calluses on them just so up and down his rib cage. Once their owner had him making a range of noises that amused him, he spun the smaller boy around.

Hisoka found himself staring at a formal shirt collar, looking up and through his dazed haze he gazed directly into green eyes identical to his that gazing right back. Somehow he found it in him to scowl; Hijiri just chuckled softly at it. Hijiri's continued growth while Hisoka had stayed in the same sixteen year-old body had caused some trouble over the last few years. He was only eighteen but was Tsuzuki's height, though slimmer in the shoulders, coming to only a little wider than Hisoka's. Their eyes and faces were still more or less the same, which was what made people comment on how wonderful it was that at least one pair of teen brothers knew how to get along these days. Hisoka didn't mind Hijiri's hands growing, though, Hisoka didn't mind that at all, they were still delicate and soft and could fit Hisoka's face, head or rear into them perfectly.

Hijiri pulled a stool from out under the counter and pushed Hisoka onto it. It didn't make him any taller, if anything it made him shorter, but it did make it easier for Hijiri to trap him and that was the whole point. Hijiri placed his hands to either side of Hisoka's rear and legs, tucking them under him so they would stay; then he leaned down and captured his mouth. One of Hisoka's hands came up to grab the other's carefully combed hair to hold his head in place, the other went to his concert button down.

Somehow he managed to get the shirt and belt off with only his one hand, even after the two belonging to the other had gone after his butt again.

Neither was sure how their pants had come off or when, nor when Tsuzuki had come home, but he was standing there a half-hour later as both panted, slumped against the kitchen counter, both blinking at him from deep green, half-slitted, glazed eyes, a brown head tilted to lay across the top of a blonde one. The only thing they were sure of was that he'd forgotten whatever movie he'd decided they would watch that night.

That was fine with the two of them; the Hokkaido girls had recommended that movie to him, who knew what it really was.


End file.
